"Cheers to true friendship!"
The arrival of the Dwarves brought a festive atmosphere to the camp. The hot food, delicious soup, and large glasses of beer quickly dispelled the slight unpleasantness that had just occurred.
Prince Arthas, in exile, was undoubtedly a sinking ship.
But the fact that this wrecked ship could pull up those alien mercenaries filled Muradin with both fear and awe.
No one is unafraid of the unknown, even the dark Power of Death.
Once Muradin was truly forced onto this pirate ship, he lost all restraint. Especially after drinking a few beers, feeling warm all over, Muradin put his arm around Arthas's shoulder and said angrily:
"I strongly advised your father to kill these damned beasts as soon as possible, so that we Dwarves wouldn't have to live in fear, but your father wouldn't listen. Now he's finally getting his comeuppance, isn't he? Lordaeron is completely finished."
Muradin cursed the Orcs loudly, his anger uncontrollable:
"Thrall, that shameless bastard, not only calls himself Savior, but I heard he's going to ascend the throne in Lordaeron, with the title of Duke of Azeroth, the most powerful Invincible King before and after him. All the Kings of Azeroth must pay homage to him, or he'll send his army to attack. He's a beast that deserves to go to hell."
"Your father, King Terenas, sowed the seeds of great disaster for Azeroth. Of course, you can't blame him entirely; if it weren't for that bastard Medivh, what would the Orcs be?"
Robbie came over to offer a toast, pouring a full glass of beer. Muradin returned the toast somewhat fearfully. He had specifically asked for the Axe of Tyranny to study it carefully and exclaimed in amazement.
"The axe is made of a very good material, a metal I've never seen before. It's incredibly tough and sturdy. It's a pity the forging is so poor and it's not enchanted. Otherwise, it could have been a Legendary weapon, or even a divine artifact. What a waste! I guarantee that the blacksmith who forged this weapon is the worst I know."
Muradin shouted loudly, feeling very sorry, Robbie took the opportunity to ask:
"So, what are you doing here in this frozen wasteland of Northrend?"
Muradin hesitated for a moment, then swallowed a large mouthful of food, slurping it down with his beer. "Alright, lad, we're here because of the Orcs!"
"What does this have to do with Orcs?" Robbie asked curiously.
"We cannot sit idly by and wait to die. We need a powerful weapon to fight off the Orcs invasion, ideally an artifact that can rival the Guardian Medivh, but of course that's impossible."
He blinked and pulled out a bunch of Booty Bay maps and similar things.
"You know, we Dwarves are very interested in strange and unusual things! Some things attract our attention; they are interesting, and of course, accompanied by danger—a worthwhile adventure."
Arthas was suddenly filled with hope. He knew that the Dwarves had an organization called the "Explorers' League," which was founded by Muradin and his brother Brann Bronzebeard.
Arthas, suppressing his mixed feelings of worry and excitement, asked eagerly:
Have you ever heard of a sword called Frostmourne?
Muradin scratched his head, sensing Arthas's excitement, but still spoke the truth, "I swear by my beard, I've never heard of Frostmourne. Tell me the whole story of that sword!"
Arthas sighed, unable to even drink anymore, finally revealing a hint of disappointment.
Robbie wasn't surprised; he had suspected something for a while and knew it was time to tell Muradin something, explaining in as much detail as possible:
"Frostmourne is a Rune sword that can absorb the souls of the dead and use them to create a terrifying Undead Legion. The Orcs are our common enemy, and with this sword, the people of Lordaeron will gain enough power to drive the Orcs out of the Eastern Kingdoms."
"If that's the case, it's really a good weapon."
Muradin lit his pipe, puffed on the special tobacco he had brought from Stratholme, and fell into thought:
"Quite good tobacco. You know, my Magni is a master blacksmith, and my skills are about the same as his, but we can only forge weapons inlaid with gems and don't know much about Runes. I'm really curious to see what a Rune sword looks like."
Robbie noticed Muradin's Booty Bay map and pointed to a strange Flame, asking:
"What's this?"
"The Eternal Flame, it exists only in the oldest volcanoes, capable of melting all metals in the world, even your axe. That's what I came for." Muradin frowned, his wrinkles deepening.
"Just a few days ago, an ancient volcano in Dragonbone Plains erupted. I was lucky enough to find the Eternal Flame, but it was unfortunately protected by a large group of Elemental, so I hired mercenaries."
The Dwarf, fuming, offered a silent protest against Robbie killing his mercenary.
Hearing this, Robbie finally understood.
It turns out that the so-called Frostmourne never existed.
According to the Guardians ' history, Frostmourne was forged by the Burning Legion.
If the Burning Legion truly possessed such a Runeblade, why bother tempting the pitiful Prince Arthas? Wouldn't it have been better for some Dreadlord to wield Runeblade?
"Muradin, if we help you obtain the Eternal Flame, would you be willing to help us forge Frostmourne?"
Muradin froze, oblivious to the burning pipe in his hand, standing like a statue, silent for a long while before finally speaking:
"Forging a divine weapon requires special rare metals."
Robbie pulled out his Axe of Tyranny: "How about melting this weapon?"
Muradin nodded, then continued:
"A good weapon requires a fine Magic Crystal as its source of power. If it is a divine artifact, then it needs an extremely special crystal, which is very rare in the world."
Arthas produced the Holy Light Crystal from Uther's lover, the Earth Princess.
Looking at the Demons's head with its eyes tightly closed on the crystal, Muradin's eyes were clearly shining.
"If Frostmourne were a Rune sword, do you have the right Runes?"
"We have twelve Runes of the Dead." Arthas's face was flushed with excitement.
"We don't need that many. The Blood, Frost, and Evil Runes don't need to be inscribed. The other nine Runes are enough," Robbie suggested.
Muradin, equally unable to contain his excitement, paced back and forth inside the tent. Finally, as if having made up his mind, he looked at Arthas's face and said:
"A master blacksmith can never resist the urge to forge a divine weapon, and I truly find it hard to resist this temptation. But I don't want to unleash a Demons, nor do I want to bring disaster to the Azeroth Continent."
"Prince Arthas, I know what happened in Lordaeron. The Order of the Silver Hand, the High Elves of Quel'Thalas, and the Dalaran Kingdom all played a disgraceful role. You hate them. I have only one request: do not let your hatred take its toll on the people of Quel'Thalas and Dalaran. Please do not use Frostmourne to slaughter innocent civilians."
Arthas nodded solemnly. "Although oaths cannot bind anything, I can swear an oath."
"I believe you. You've always been a good kid who keeps his word." Muradin patted Arthas on the shoulder and nodded to Robbie. "Something to look forward to; a divine weapon is about to be born."